Blossom
by Phanton Flame
Summary: How did Samantha Manson end up a Goth, when her parents were so preppy? How did she become friends with Danny and Tucker? This is a tale of how it all began. Mostly Sam-centric, with Danny-Sam-Tucker-friendship and slight DxS hinting. Complete.


**Name ****of ****Story:** Blossom

**Written ****By: **Phanton Flame (formally known as M00nlite Maiden)

**Pairing(s) ****& ****Character(s):** Mostly Sam-centric, with some Danny-Sam-Tucker friendship and minor DxS at the end.

**Genre ****& ****Rating:** Drama/Friendship/Mild Humour; Rated T (for safety, as usual).

**Summary:** How did Samantha Manson end up a Goth, when her parents were so preppy? How did she become friends with Danny and Tucker? This is a tale of how it all began. Trio-friendship and DxS hinting.

**Official ****Disclaimer:** Danny Phantom © Butch Hartman.

**Author's ****Notes:** OH GOSH I AM SO LATE. This is a birthday present for a dear Netherlands friend, Witneus on deviantART. She's one of my good friends over the internet, and this story is way overdue. Not my best work, either D: The title is so lame o_o I hope she still likes it, though. Enjoy, everyone!

* * *

><p><strong>One-shot — Blossom<strong>

"Your daughter's so pretty!"

"I love that dress she's wearing! Is it tailor-made?"

"Where did you buy all those lovely ribbons in her hair? I'd love to buy them for my own children!"

Eight-year old Samantha Manson was the centre of attention of all the adults around her, but she definitely wasn't enjoying herself. Why, you ask? Well, she was wearing a frilly, poufy, baby-pink dress with matching flats, along with a bright-pink necklace, bright-pink earrings, and silk ribbons that held her long, black hair into a braid, which were – you guessed it – _pink_.

The poor girl was literally drowning in all that girly-ness, supposed cuteness and quite obviously, the overload of a single colour.

With that thought in mind, Sam began to sulk, her cheeks puffing up as she did so.

Of course, this wasn't left unnoticed. It _couldn__'__t_ be left unnoticed, since she was surrounded by at least a dozen adults of both genders, all rich and classy, which was expected of them if they were to be considered as Pamela Manson's friends.

"Aww, how _adorable_!" One of the snobbier-looking ladies cooed, bending over to pinch poor Sam's cheeks, rather painfully at that. "Pamela, you've got the _cutest_ little girl I've _ever_ seen, and I'm not even exaggerating!"

_Liar_. Sam resisted the urge to bite the lady's fingers, seeking satisfaction in a menacing glare up at her instead.

"I absolutely _adore_ her hair!" Another lady squealed, tugging at her long braid, which trailed all the way down to her back, making her seem like a miniature Rapunzel.

_I __HATE __my __hair._ Sam nearly growled out loud. _It__'__s __a __chore __to __wash __it, __and __it __takes __HOURS __to __dry __up __completely __after __that! __What__'__s __the __use __of __such __long __hair, __anyway? __To __sweep __the __floor __when __your __mop __goes __missing?_

She decided right there and then that she'd had enough.

"Mother, I'd like to be excused and retreat to my room, now." Sam requested as politely as she could through gritted teeth.

Pamela paused from a giggle-fest with some friends to wave a hand at her daughter airily. "Alright! Have fun on your own, Sammy-kins!"

The black-haired girl didn't even bother replying as she stalked off, running up the stairs as fast as she could without tripping over her annoyingly long dress.

* * *

><p>Sam slammed the door to her room behind her, wanting so badly to vent her frustrations through screaming. Her gaze swept around her room with disdain.<p>

Four walls painted pink. A pink bed with white, flowery-patterned bedsheets. Barbie Dolls of every design. Her wooden closet filled with dresses similar to the one she was clad in. Piles of books on her study-desk, which were in English, Italian, Japanese, German and French.

Everywhere she went, whatever she did and anything she owned, they weren't what she wanted. Not even _close_ to what she ever wanted.

She felt like a puppet, being controlled by her parents, the puppeteers. They were constantly monitoring her behaviour, making sure that she didn't do anything that could ruin the Manson family's reputation.

And she was so _sick_ of it all. Her freedom had been taken away ever since she'd been born, and she wanted it _back_.

She took a step forward, but nearly fell flat on her face when she accidentally stepped on her dress. Her eyebrows furrowed as she glared at the outfit. _Stupid __pink __thing__…_ Suddenly, an idea struck her, causing her unique amethyst eyes to light up.

With speed that could rival a junior athlete's, Sam rummaged through one of her many drawers and grabbed a few items, before rushing towards the bathroom without her butler noticing.

_Click._

Breathing heavily, she leaned against the now-locked door, staring at the objects in her hands.

A can of black spray-paint, a pair of scissors, a plastic bag, and some clothes that were somewhat decent in her opinion.

Ordinary things you can find anywhere, but they were extremely crucial to her at this point.

_There's no turning back now._

Sam quickly changed into the sunny-yellow tank-top and white shorts she'd brought along with her, and proceeded in grasping the can of spray-paint in one hand, holding up the dress in the other.

She inhaled sharply, closed her eyes… and aimed the nozzle at the dress.

_Szzzzzzzzzzzt._

She blinked a few times at the once-hideous get-up, now entirely covered in black paint. A devilish smirk graced her features. _Well, __that __was __easy. __Now __for __the __more __difficult __part__…_

The girl's attention immediately shifted to the mirror, or more specifically, her Rapunzel-like hair.

That's when she hesitated.

_If I do it, I'll be able to do whatever I want to do next time… But then again, Mother will be so angry with me… If I don't do it, I'll be a soulless robot... But then again, at least my parents won't have to worry about our reputation…_

These thoughts went round in circles for a few moments, before she finally came to a conclusion. _But __in __the __end, __it __all __boils __down __to __what __I __want... __And __all __I __want __is __just __to __be __free._

Her eyes flashed with resolve as she snatched the scissors from the sink and held it over the back of her neck, where the start of her braid was.

_Snip… Snip… Snip…_

It felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders when most of her silky hair made its descend towards the cold marble tiles.

Her now-short black locks were choppy and her fringe fell into her eyes, but she didn't care. She was who she was now, and nothing could stop her.

…well, almost. She blew the fringe out her eyes, slightly annoyed. _It__'__s __still __so __long__…_

Sam caught sight of a green hair-band sitting innocently on the sink – who left it there, anyway? – and on sheer whim, used it to tie her fringe up into a mini-ponytail.

Finally satisfied with her appearance, she swiftly cleaned up the bathroom, tossing all the cut hair and what-not into the plastic bag before exited the bathroom, bracing herself for the onslaught of hysterics to come later that night, courtesy of Mother dearest.

* * *

><p>"Hey, who's that girl over there?"<p>

"I don't recognize her… Maybe she's a new transfer student?"

"Not sure… But just _look_ at her _hair_! Who would want to keep it _that_ short?"

Sam walked along the hallways of Casper Junior High, ignoring the stares and whispers that lurked with every step she took. She was clad in a dark-purple tank-top and a pleated black skirt, along with matching black shoes. Her head was held high, a wavering aura of confidence surrounding her.

_Everything__'__s __gonna __be __just __fine__… __I __know __it __will__…_ She thought as she approached her gaggle of popular girls.

"Hey, girls…" Her greeting trailed off when they stared at her like she was a piece of gum stuck at the bottom of their branded flats. "Um, is there something wrong?"

Paulina Sanchez, her best friend with the voluptuous figure, flipped her hair over her shoulder. "Everything's wrong… especially when you're dressed like _that_, weirdo."

_And __THIS __girl, __this __girl __who __called __me __a __weirdo, __is __my __BEST __FRIEND? _The girl gave her a disgusted look. "I'm sure Mr Sanchez won't be too happy to find out that you just insulted the Manson heiress at school, yes?" She stated crisply, amethyst eyes cold and unforgiving.

The girls present, including Paulina herself, gasped. "_S-SAMANTHA_?"

She twitched slightly at the use of her full name, but gave a curt nod, causing her best friend to blanch. "I… I'm sorry, Sammy… I didn't mean–"

"_Forget_ _it_." She hissed sharply, making Paulina flinch. "Let's just go to class now."

* * *

><p>Classes came and went, and within a blink of an eye, it was already lunch time. Sam was on her way to the cafeteria when she heard some jeering coming from a remote hallway.<p>

"Ahaha, let's see how much of this you can take, Fen-_toad_!"

She froze in her tracks when she recognized the voice. Her pace quickened, and she stopped dead at the sight.

A frail-looking boy was getting kicked around by the most popular guy in her grade and his cronies.

"_Dash __Baxter_, what do you think you're _doing_?" Sam snarled, making her presence known to the boys, startling them in doing so.

"…huh? Oh, it's just some random chick. Continue on, boys!" The blonde-haired jock ordered, smirking at the girl arrogantly.

_Bad move._

Within the span of a heartbeat, she'd grasped the burly boy by his collar, pushing him into the wall. "Who do you think you're _messing_ with, Baxter?" She growled. "Did you spend too much of your time trying to flirt with me that it made you _blind_?"

"What the– Wait, M-M-_Manson_?" Dash squeaked, horrified. "U-uh… I-I can explain–"

"_Save_ it." Sam shoved him away, refusing to spare him with any glance. "Just get the Hell outta my face. Right. _Now_."

Without further ado, all of the tough-looking football boys ran for their lives. Hey, at least they weren't crying for their mummies, right?

_How __did __I __not __notice __all __these __things __before? __I __must__'__ve __been __so __blinded __by __popularity__…_ Sam let out a sigh in frustration, before she squatted down to face the most-recent victim of Dash's terror. "Hey, are you alright?"

The boy looked up at her, and she couldn't help but stare. She guessed that he was around her age and looked fairly ordinary for a boy, but what really captured her attention was his eyes, which were peeking out from under his jet-black bangs. They were an alluring blue that just drew her in, mesmerizing her.

"Um… I-I'm f-f-fine…" He stuttered, shifting nervously under the girl's intense gaze. While she _was_ rather pretty, it was still quite disturbing for a stranger to stare at him that long. Did he have something on his face or someth–

…_wait, did I just think that this random girl's pretty?_

He froze.

And stayed that way until something flicked his forehead. "Ow! What the–"

"Thank Heavens you're back on Earth, boy." A familiar-yet-not-familiar voice stated dryly.

"Ehehe… Right…" He scratched the back of his neck boyishly. "Err… Thank you for the help back then."

She shrugged casually. "It's only right to help those in need."

The boy nodded, and stuck out a hand. "I'm Danny. Danny Fenton. Daniel Fenton, really, but you can just call me Danny. Not that I don't like my real name, but–"

"You just prefer Danny." She smiled, cutting off his rambling. "I'm Samantha Manson. Just Sam will do. Nice to meet you." She shook his hand.

Danny nodded, about to reply, when a shout interrupted him (for the second time in a row).

"_DANNY_!"

Both of them jerked their heads up in surprise, only to see a dark-skinned boy barrel forward, his thick-rimmed glasses askew.

"D-Danny…" The boy panted as he bent over, his hands clasped onto his knees, trying to catch his breath. "I-I'm sorry… I didn't come earlier… I heard you… were in trouble…"

"I'm fine, Tucker. Don't worry. This girl saved me." The blue-eyed boy assured, gesturing towards Sam.

Suddenly, previously-mentioned Tucker caught his breath at an amazing rate, focusing on the girl. "Is that so…?" He slid an arm around her. "Hi, I'm Tucker. Tucker Foley. T.F., as in Too Fine!" He winked at her 'foxily', while Danny just facepalmed.

Sam smiled dangerously. "If you don't get your arm off me right this instant, you're gonna be S.D., as in SO DEAD."

Tucker gulped, his arm swinging back to his side as if It'd gotten burned. "R-right… Note-to-self: Sam's a _really_ feisty girl…"

The amethyst-eyed girl just continued glaring at him.

In an attempt to ease the tension, Danny asked, "So, uhh… you do wanna join us for lunch, Sam? We don't really have much time left to eat…"

Her temper instantly simmered. "Alright, let's hurry then."

As Sam and Danny walked side-by-side, Tucker trudged after them, muttering, "Lovebirds at first sight…"

"I HEARD THAT!"

And _that_ was just the beginning of how Tucker often ended up getting his shins bruised.

It was also the blossoming of a solid friendship between three young friends, which would last for years to come.

* * *

><p><strong>Author<strong>**'****s ****Notes:** Yes, ending is corny. Yes, I know the story's kinda weird, since Sam met Tucker after she stuffed sand down his pants because he threw up in her lunchbox. YES, I KNOW. I'm kinda rushing right now, and my writers' block was SO not helping through this fic. Give an authoress a break, will you? I'd appreciate it so much.

I won't be online much after this, so... I can't reply to your reviews. Or private messages that are neglected in my inbox. I'm sorry, I really am. Homework awaits.

Anyway, reviews are always welcome. Flames? Well, BRING IT ON.

~Phanton Flame (:


End file.
